Not That Bad
by MrsBeilschmidt3
Summary: Russia, aka Ivan Braginski grew up with two strange sisters, the younger of whom is maniacal and wants to force him into a relationship, the older of whom took his beloved Kiev territory he worked so hard to obtain. After a bloody, war-torn past, he is haunted and tormented, but never evil or cruel. Russia wants so desperately to have friends, but nobody trusts him.
1. Chapter 1

Not That Bad

Ivan Braginski smiled as his older sister Katyusha held up the child for him to see. "This is our baby sister, Ivan," she told him, speaking like a schoolteacher since Ivan was, after all, younger. "Her name is Natasha." The baby gave a little squeal as she moved about in her blanket.

Ivan looked down at the perfect little infant head, the little button nose and tiny hands and feet. "Can I pet it?" he asked Katyusha, who acted as if this was a very silly question but nodded anyway. Ivan stroked the tiny head, which was soft and warm and downy. "Natasha," he repeated. "Is she a nation too?"

Across the world, since life began, there were some who personified and represented the nations of the earth. Katyusha was the Ukraine, and when he was older Ivan would be Russia. "Yes," Katyusha answered, "she will be Belarus."

"Belarus." Ivan liked the name. "Ukraine, Russia, and Belarus." He wondered what it would be like, someday, to be the great nation of Russia. He had seen his land, it was enormous, bigger than any other he had ever known. All the vast amounts of snow and sunflowers would be his someday. And Katyusha had Ukraine and little baby Natasha would have Belarus. He thought it would be nice that, unlike some countries who were separated by land or sea, he and his sisters would all be right next to each other. The mighty empire they would create, hand in hand. They would be so close… wouldn't they?

-Hetalia-Hetalia-Hetalia-Hetalia-Hetalia-Hetalia-Hetalia-Hetalia-Hetalia-Hetalia-Hetalia

It was so cold. Ivan was outside skating with his sisters, since he'd heard that keeping moving was the best way to stay warm. But he was almost too cold to move, and he was accustomed to a wintery climate. Natasha, now older and a remarkably beautiful young girl, seemed to have no trouble at all, and skated circles around her older siblings. Ivan sighed and wished he could have a cup of hot chocolate.

Katyusha skated his way and studied his face. She had the same whitish hair and bright blue-violet eyes, but his were red and watery. "Are you cold?" she asked tenderly. Ivan nodded, and Katyusha took off one of her scarves and wrapped it around her brother's pale neck. "There you go, _ДoРoгoй,"_ she cooed, adjusting the scarf until Ivan warmed up.

" _Cпacибo,"_ Ivan told her, skating again to keep up with his sisters.

"You know," said Katyusha wistfully, "you have so much land, Ivan. You appreciate that I took care of you, _da?"_

" _Da."_ What was she getting at?

"So since I am always having to work to cultivate my land, why not, since it is nearly my birthday, you grant me the Kiev territory?"

Ivan gasped. The Kiev was a gift to him! He had to work for it making alliances with both Lithuania and Poland, aka Toris Laurinaitis and Feliks Lukasiewicz, simply to gain control of the land. And Katyusha knew this right well. Now _she_ wanted it? Had she only shown him concern and given him the scarf to manipulate him into giving her Kiev?

"You always were a schemer, big sis," he muttered, and skated off to get a cup of hot chocolate and have some quiet time alone, away from his sisters.


	2. Chapter 2

Some 2 or 3 to a few hundred years later…

"Mr. Russia? I have your hot chocolate and _blini."_

Ivan sighed and pushed aside his paperwork at the sound of Lithuania's voice. He had Katyusha to advise him before the Soviet Union broke apart. Not that they did a lot of splendid things together during those days; it turned out it was much better when Russia worked alone, without Ukraine's influence and Belarus' interference. He often cringed when he remembered the Soviet days. But it was nice to have some help, even though Katyusha _had_ eventually taken over the Kiev.

" _Da,_ Toris, _Cпacuбo,"_ he told him, and the dark-haired nation entered, placing the tray on Ivan's desk beside his paperwork. Toris, Eduard von Bock (Estonia), and Raivis Galante (Latvia), all worked for him, and Ivan could tell that he frightened them, because they were always nervous in his presence and polite to the point of suspiciousness without necessarily being friendly. The Silent Bear, he was called, no wonder they were afraid, poor things. Who knew the unmentionable horrors the mighty Russia had in store for them behind his warm smiles?

Ivan sighed as he sipped his hot chocolate. Things had taken a turn for the worst. Nobody liked him, because nobody trusted him, and even those in his "closer circles" respected him out of fear. Katyusha hadn't asked anything else out of him, but Natasha wanted the impossible.

He could hear her nails scratching at the door in his head, "Become one with me and marry me, big brother, you know you want to! Then we will rule all this great land together!" He'd hid in his bedroom; she shot his doorknob and proclaimed cheerfully that the "damned doorknob" that had kept them separated was "gone forever now, isn't that wonderful, big brother?"

He shuddered at the thought. Then there were the nightmares of the Bolsheviks and the murder of his favorite ruling family, the Romanovs, and of the days of the Soviet Union when KGB agents hijacked planes and murdered in war. And with the nightmares came the voices, the voices that told him everything his bosses or his people had done wrong, was all his fault, that he was indeed an evil country, and that was why no one trusted him.

He sighed again and realized that Toris was standing awkwardly by the doorway, waiting to be dismissed or else receive some other order. "You may go, Toris," he said wearily, still keeping that sometimes-fake smile plastered on his face in that ever-present vain hope of being trusted. "You are free for the day."

Toris' face lit up. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Russia, thank you!" But then he walked out slowly, as if he was suspicious as to why his boss let him off early. Ivan supposed that it was simply hard for anyone to understand that he was really not that bad.


	3. Chapter 3

"And so I think I've come up with a solution to solve all the world's problems!" Alfred F. Jones, aka the United States of America, declared, tapping the pointer on the chalkboard. The other nations sat around the table in the hotel conference room in Manhattan, where today's World Meeting would be held.

"Oh, dear, here he goes again," sighed Arthur "Iggy" Kirkland (England), running his hands through his blonde hair.

"America tends to have pretty good ideas," protested Kiku Honda, otherwise known as Japan. "He's very creative."

"He doesn't have good ideas when it comes to food intake," Arthur pointed out, motioning to the large bag of French fries at his adopted younger brother's seat.

"Look who's talking," snorted Francis Bonnefoy (France).

Alfred held up his hands to silence the nations. Ivan admired the kind of respect the bold, cheery nation had; not out of fear, which was why he himself was respected by his underlings, but because most of the other nations loved and trusted him. Ivan wondered if he'd _ever_ be loved or trusted.

"Look, guys," he said once the other nations in attendance had quieted down, "my idea has nothing to do with food. My idea is that we get past minor issues like who's food is best- *cough, cough* I mean, mine _is,_ but that's beside the point- and accept that there's some things we _can't_ change. Let's narrow down our list of issues here and get to what _really_ matters."

"Like _pasta!"_ cheered Feliciano Vargas (North Italy).

Germany, who bore the human name Ludwig Beilschmidt, rubbed his temples and put a finger to his mouth for Feliciano to be quiet. Feli nodded and repeated the action, and Alfred sat down and let the others consider his words. He had rehearsed the speech at home with the guidance of his helpful alien friend Tony, and hoped some of the nations took it to heart.

"I say zhat someone is finally showing some common sense here!" said Ludwig after a moment's silence.

"Yes," agreed Yao Wang, aka China, "we often argue over such petty and immature things!"

Meanwhile, Ivan had been quietly taking notes, as he always did. He rarely spoke up during these sorts of meetings unless he was very passionate about a topic in discussion, such as Kiev or weapons or _blini._ But now he stood up and cleared his throat, pulling some reading glasses from his coat pocket and adjusting them on the bridge of his nose.

The nations looked his way hesitantly. "I, ah- I was listening to what Alfred had to say, and I agreed with him, like many of you," he began. "So, ah- I thought of some issues that might be of more importants, making a list, like he suggested-"

"And what would this 'list' of yours include?" demanded Roderich Edelstein (Austria). "Killing more of my people? During the first world war I think you made your ideas on important geopolitical issues clear enough."

Ivan felt his cheeks flame with anger. He was tired of being viewed as the big bad sleeping bear just waiting to rise from hibernation and kill. "You never let me speak!" he exclaimed in frustration. The whole room went quiet; probably because they were all afraid of him. Yeesh, he didn't want that. He wanted to be able to happily chat the way Arthur and Alfred did went they walked out the door, or Ludwig and Feliciano. All he wanted was some friends. He sighed. "I just wanted to suggest that we stopped arguing so much, and that we didn't confuse political alliances with friendships. I wasn't asking any of you to shake my hand, I knew you wouldn't want that… I'm the big, bad Russia, after all."

Ivan sat back down and waited for someone to break the silence that was sure to follow his outburst. He felt something that hadn't hit him in a long time creep up on him now, and he tried his best to hide it. But it ran down his face anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

Ivan scrolled through the channels and exhaled heavily. He could watch three hours of The Goldbergs dubbed into Russian, but he really didn't feel like it. He sipped a cup of hot chocolate Raivis had brought him; he wished the small, timid nation would sit and watch some TV or chat with him, but Raivis was so nervous around him. He practically _shook_ despite the fact that Ivan always smiled at him and had never hurt or threatened him before. In fact, Ivan rarely even raised his voice to his Baltic underlings.

Ivan was about to shower and head to bed when he heard the doorbell ring. He looked through the peephole of the hotel suite's door and saw a familiar face bearing glasses, dark blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. _"Привет,_ Alfred," he said, opening the door and inviting the other nation in. "Care for some hot chocolate?"

The blue-eyed nation smiled and nodded, standing by Russia as he poured some hot water into a cup and dumping the contents of a hot chocolate packet into it. "Yes, thank you, but…I'm not Alfred."

Ivan turned to face him, his brows raised in confusion, as he stirred the contents of the packet into the cup and handed it to America's doppleganger. "I'm sorry, it's just that you look just like him. What's your name?"

The other nation sipped the hot chocolate and spoke. "I'm Matthew… that is, Canada. I'm Alfred's twin brother. I go to the meetings… but nobody sees me." He frowned and blew at the curl that hung in his face.

Ivan sat on the small hotel room loveseat and patted the spot next to him for Matthew to sit in. He did, and Ivan told him, "I'm sorry about that. Come to think of it, I think I've seen you and been confused because Alfred was there as well. It's nice to meet you officially, Matthew. I guess you know I'm Ivan." He reached out his hand in desperate hopes and was rewarded when Matthew shook it.

"I heard what you said at the meeting today," Matthew explained, "and I felt bad for you because, well, I know what it's like to have no friends. People never even notice me unless they're confusing me for my brother. And, well… I'll be your friend, if you want."

Ivan didn't know what to say. Matthew wanted to be his _friend?_ He _trusted_ him? He felt a burning behind his eyes and sniffled. "Thank you, Matthew. Yes, I do. I've been so… lonely. I miss my sisters, how it used to be when we were children, when we were innocent, and the Baltics are afraid of me, and I didn't have anyone to talk to about it until now."

"Don't worry," Matthew assured him, "a lot of nations might be afraid of you, but I know you're not that bad. I always thought Russia was a pretty cool country."

"Thanks," said Ivan, smiling, "Canada sounds nice as well, I should go see it someday."

Matthew's eyes lit up like a kid's on Christmas, and Ivan could tell that no one had really expressed an interest in his country before. The smile Ivan was able to put on his face warmed his heart. For once, he was able to look beyond his loneliness and his painful past, and truly enjoy just sitting down with a cup of hot chocolate and just _talking_ to someone.

"So," Ivan piped up after they had both drank some chocolate, "have you ever tried _blini,_ Matthew?"

"No, I haven't, what is it?"

"It's our pancakes in Russia," Ivan replied proudly, thinking he'd love some _blini_ right about now.

"Pancakes?" Matthew jumped up in delight. "I love pancakes, they're only my favorite food ever!"

And with that, the Russian and the Canadian became best friends.


	5. Chapter 5

(Author's Note: Sorry I'm so late to update, a couple days ago was my birthday and then yesterday I was super busy working on my geography fair project, but anyway, here's the final chapter! ^J^)

 _The newspapers now showed: The Romanovs were dead. Tsar Nicholas, his Tsarina, the lovely Grand Duchesses and the poor little Grand Duke Alexei. So many soldiers were killed too, some of whom were really just little boys. Bodies lay on the ground and stained the white snow bright crimson. "And all this," said the familiar voice in Ivan's head, "was your fault."_

Ivan sat up sweating. It was just another horrible dream, he told himself. It was all over now. But so many people, his own and many others, were killed. Was it his fault? He hadn't lead the Russian Revolution, Tsar Nicholas had been his favorite boss. Beforehand, and afterward, there had been other bosses, some he'd liked less, who had oppressed him and his people. But if so many countries said it was all Ivan's fault, then it was, wasn't it?

He sniffed back his tears and tried to forget the horrors of his past. There was a knock on his door, followed by a slightly nervous, "Mr. Russia?"

"Come in, Toris," he said, a little embarrassed since he was still in bed in his pajamas, but feeling that some company might be good for him. Toris entered with a tray of _blini,_ accompanied by some hot chocolate and a sunflower in a vase.

Ivan smiled. He loved sunflowers. He took the tray and sipped the hot chocolate. "Thank you, Toris," he told his dark-haired underling, "what occasion is so special that I get breakfast in bed?"

Toris was about to answer but was cut off by the doorbell. He looked through the peephole and announced, "It's Eduard and Raivis, sir, and someone who looks very much like Alfred!"

Ivan began to feel happier. Matthew! "Let them all in!" he ordered, and soon they were joined by the nation of Canada and the other two Baltics. Ivan took off his blankets and greeted them all, apologizing for still being in his pajamas. "Nice to see you all," he told them, "why-"

He heard talking down the hall and was surprised to see the faces of Alfred, Arthur, Francis, Ludwig, Feliciano, Kiku, Yao, and even Roderich, along with Elizabeta Hedervàry (Hungary), Gilbert Beilschmidt (Prussia), and Antonio Carrieda (Spain). Practically everyone was here! He was about to ask what was going on when Alfred declared, "Happy birthday, dude!"

Ivan stared in shock for a moment. He'd forgotten that today was his birthday! The nations all bore decorated bags and packages, and Francis was carrying a cake. "Thank you!" he exclaimed, surprised beyond belief. They'd come to celebrate _his_ birthday? But he thought- he thought nobody liked him.

"Come in," he insisted, a smile breaking out on his face. "Sorry the suite is rather small." He was still a little dazed. Was he still asleep?

"It's all right, _mon_ _ami,"_ Francis assured him, laying the cake down on the table. Ivan was tempted to ask if he was all right? Did he just call him his friend in French? Since when did Francis consider Ivan his friend?

"I ran into those three on my way out a couple nights ago," Matthew explained, gesturing in the Baltic trio's direction, "and they told me that today was your birthday. So, maybe I talked to Alfred and he sort of used his-"

"Charming charisma," Alfred butt in, laughing.

Matthew chuckled. "That," he agreed. "Anyway, he convinced the others that you're actually a pretty nice guy."

"Wow." Ivan felt a tear come to his eye. For the first time in, well- since ever- he had a true friend who cared enough to stand up for him. And now, perhaps, he had more friends. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you all!"

Very shouts of "Happy Birthday!" (in more than one language) ensued, and Roderich approached Ivan. "I apologize for my words at the meeting the other day," he told Ivan sincerely. "You and Alfred were right. I needed to get over my own personal biases."

"Thank you," said Ivan, "I understand. We all have those. It's just nice to know that people care about me." He smiled at Matthew, who smiled back, and handed him a neatly wrapped gift. "Happy birthday, Ivan."


End file.
